Don't Blink Yet
by Searching.For.Enadi
Summary: She had assumed it was her flamingo-printed shirt that was the problem. She had assumed wrong. (mod!fem!harry)
1. Chapter 1

**disclaimer: don't own.**

**warning: mentions/slight scenes on the darker side of organized criminal activity, such as kidnappings/rape. **

* * *

In her years of experience, Harry Potter had experienced Italy a countless number of times.

(Of course, it was difficult to say if they were all the _same _Italy… after the first dozen, it sort of became a blur).

But parallel universes aside, it was important to remember that Harry Potter held a lot of respect for each and every world's cultural monuments. Hence, why she was here, standing in the crush of hundreds of people, observing the Pantheon for what was perhaps the thirty-second time.

Her fingers cradled a cheap film camera - the item served more as a prop than anything else, but after that one world where the locals nearly stabbed her for wearing foreign clothes, it never hurt to blend in.

(Then again, was it possible that her eye-watering flamingo print shirt pushed the idea of "tourist" a bit too far? It was hard to tell.

Still, perhaps it was a _tad _too offensive),

She leaned forward, making appropriate noises at the massive temple. A few clicks, standing right in the middle of the crowd, being a nuisance to those around her - and she was all set. It felt good to be an upstanding member of society.

Her eyes trailed the columns in front of her, their towering heights inspiring a sense of nostalgia. Inevitably, at one point or another, their ancient history would become mere specks of dust between her fingers. And when that time came, well. Perhaps Harry Potter would finally be laid down to rest.

But that would be eons from now, and with a growing appetite, she took one last photo and turned, intent on finding the nearest bakery.

It was at that moment that a hand reached out to grab her.

She blinked as time slowed to an agonizing halt, the gloved hand wrapping around her eyes as another hand came towards her mouth.

_Oh, _she thought curiously, watching as the hands gradually moved to close in. _Is this a kidnapping? _

And then another thought: _was it the shirt? Was it too offensive? _

Reasons aside, Harry had all the time in the world to decide her next course of action. She was, of course, ravenously hungry and that put a damper on all sorts of exciting things.

But! When would her next kidnapping be? It could be another few decades, just like last time, and then where would the fun in that be?

_Kidnapping it is, _she decided, because it wasn't like starvation could kill her anyways. _Then a couple of drinks later on tonight. _

Drinks and bread - what a fantastic combination. Immensely satisfied with her plan, the world resumed its course, and the hands finally wrapped around her face.

"Ahh!" she said in a hopefully fearful manner, the sound horribly muffled against the cloth stuffed into her mouth. Her eyes travelled to the hordes of people around her, and she marvelled at how easy it was to kidnap a young woman right in front of the Pantheon.

_If I had known it was gonna be this easy, _she thought as several men dragged her to a more hidden area, _I would've started my own ring of kidnappings. Forced anyone with hideous outfits to change into something nicer. It could have been an empire, a benevolent dictatorship!_

Ignoring the hypocrisy of her own thoughts, Harry allowed the men to bash her head against the brick wall at a nearby alleway. The pain was negligible, near non-existent in fact, but she eagerly gave a rather convincing cry of pain before letting her body slump over.

"_Well that was fucking easy,_" one of the men commented as another hauled her over his shoulder. "_Don't they usually fight a little harder than that?_"

"_American tourists are stupid like that_," a man far to her left snorted, muttering a few more obscene words in their spoken language. "_Just bring her in so we can report to the old man._"

"_Yeah, yeah, you don't need to tell me twice,_" the first man laughed, and soon after a hard smack was placed on Harry's behind. "_Maybe the boss will let me have a go at her after he's done._"

And as she was none-too-gently thrown into a dark, tinted van, Harry briefly considered leaving and grabbing that bread after all.

The thought passed by quickly, however, because she was all for the "next, great adventure," and the mafia was a fantastic place to start.

_So, not the shirt, _she thought, wiggling around her tightly bound ropes to find a more comfortable position. _That's good to hear - wouldn't want seem culturally offensive. _

Minutes later, she let herself drift away, humming an off-key tune that was oddly reminiscent of a melody she had once known long ago.

**.**

**.**

**.**

They kept her blindfolded during the entire journey. Once they confirmed her conscious state, they moved her to a place that smelled awfully of rat dung and damp mold.

Placed on her feet once more, the blindfold was roughly removed and Harry blinked several times to adjust to the dim lighting. The cloth in her mouth was taken out next, though her bindings remained, and she turned her head to take in the terrible decor around her.

"Hm," she hummed, glancing at the door in front of her, encased in metal locks and rusted chains. There were rows of barely burning candles along the hallway behind her, forming eerie shadows that illuminated the dusty corridor. Her feet tapped on the earth below and the sound seemed remarkably hollow.

"Welcome, _signorina,_" a slightly accented voice entered from the several men standing resolutely next to her. They were all dressed impeccably well, wearing ironed suits with tightly clasped, gloved hands. Moments later, they moved in tandem, creating two lines that revealed a short, stocky man in an even more luxurious suit. The man chuckled as he dropped a recently lit cigar. "I'm sorry if my men startled you."

"Oh, no," Harry answered, surveying the man's rather tacky shoes. "They were perfect gentlemen. Couldn't have asked for better service."

There was a silent pause before the man dug his heel into the cigar. With ill-concealed delight, he noted, "You're English! My men told me you were American. I apologize for the misunderstanding."

"Quite alright," Harry said with a shrug. "Happens to the best of us."

"Well, of course," the man agreed before waving his hand. Immediately, two men grabbed Harry on either side and another two worked to open the rusted door. "I'm very familiar with, what they like to call, the _very best_. And you, _signorina, _are a perfect addition to my best."

"I'm flattered," Harry responded as gloved hands dragged her through the open door. The leader of the group walked sedately next to her, commenting further as the door shut with a resounding slam.

The entryway led to another lengthy hall. There were piercing noises that grew increasingly louder and, when they turned another corner, Harry realized the sounds were actually screams.

"Oh," she said blandly, as she was shoved forward, past the barred rooms surrounding her on each side. Each dismally small room held several woman, either barely clothed or not clothed at all. Shrieks of pain and terror cascaded across the entire corridor, with some women desperately pulling at the bars and others sitting silently on the floor.

"You see? This is my collection," the leader said to her proudly, as they led her through the hall. The smell of urine and rotting produce overwhelmed the air, and Harry turned her head around, making note of every single prisoner within each room. "Impressive isn't it? I only retrieve the _best_."

"I see," Harry said. And as they reached another door, leading to a single bedroom, she asked, "So are all these women for you? Just you?"

"Some are," the leader answered after a beat of silence.

"Okay then," she said, as the men moved to remove her clothes. "So, what, you sell the other girls? The girls themselves, or - ah, the zipper is actually on the side, I know, it's weird, sorry - or their services only?"

Even longer silence. The men focusing on her clothes turned to look at their leader hesitantly.

Belatedly, Harry realized that perhaps this entire display was meant to serve as a power move, to intimidate and strike fear into victims before they could even think of fighting back.

_Oh no, _she then thought, _I ruined his favorite part. _

"Their services," the man said slowly. Then, rapidly to his men in Italian, he hissed, "_Who the fuck is this girl? Where did you pick her up?_"

"_I have no idea, boss,_" one of the two muttered as the other successfully tore off her shirt. Briefly, she mourned for the loss. "_She was taking pictures at the Pantheon - you know how clueless the people there are._"

"_Well this one isn't acting like any normal tourist,_" the boss spat, motioning for the men to hurry up. Swiftly, Harry's cargo pants were pushed down as well.

In English, the man continued with a sneer, "You're not a regular tourist, are you? Who sent you, you little bitch?"

Harry blinked, bewildered.

"Sent me?" she asked as they tossed her onto the dusty mattress inside the bedroom and shut the door. "Uh…"

Well, what was she supposed to say? Her mother, who birthed her? Or, the real perpetrator of all her shenanigans for nearly half a millenia, the all-powerful, eternal, unchanging Death?

"No matter," the man interrupted with an uncaring wave of his hand. "I'll get the answer out of you after I fuck you till you're half-dead."

"Now that just sounds like bad business," Harry noted as she laid uncomfortably on the thin bed. "Do you do that to all your girls? Because that's poor service to your customers."

The two grunts looked at each other even as the boss tore off his expensive suit, leaving on only a collared shirt and pair of briefs. Without another word, he sent a sudden hard slap across her face.

"I think you should also rethink your sanitation procedures," Harry added, barely registering the pain. Her eyes narrowed as she waited patiently for the right moment. "Selling girls in the catacombs? That's a surefire way to get diseases."

"Talk all you want," the boss sneered, hands _finally _reaching for his skin tight briefs. Harry wiggled her fingers around the bound ropes in anticipation. "I'll make sure to send your broken body to M16 by the end of the week."

_Wait, _she blinked. _M16? M16 as in the UK's Secret Intelligence Service?_

Before she could ponder on that interesting revelation any further, the sound of gunshots rang through the air.

Immediately, muffled shouts and curses could be heard from the other side of the door, while the screams of the prisoners rose to another decibel of fear and terror.

"_What's going on?_" the mafia boss roared as his men immediately pulled out their respective guns. Meanwhile, Harry wrinkled her nose at the sight of the naked man, his undergarments hanging loosely at his ankles.

And as quickly as it had started, there was a sudden silence. Carefully approaching the closed door, the two grunts raised their weapons, fingers wrapped around the trigger -

From one breath to the next, the door slammed open, twin golden shots bursting through the opening and piercing through each man's forehead.

The grunts fell with a crumpled thud, guns hanging loosely in their lifeless hands.

"_Stop! Don't move!_" the boss raised his own weapon with unsteady knees.

Already tired of this entire fiasco, Harry loosened the ropes around her body and sat up, stretching the sores in her neck.

"_Chaos, Don Gospella,_" a man stepped into view, shadows surrounding his face, dressed in his own well-fitted suit. "_You've been a tricky man to find._"

"_You, you,_" Gospella wheezed, stumbling backwards. He tripped over his undergarments and collapsed onto the floor. "_How did you -_ "

The man whipped his head to Harry, who, after standing up and giving a long stretch, was staring at a tacky glass painting in consideration.

"_You,_" he then snarled, pointing his gun at her. She, meanwhile, lifted the framed portrait and removed it from the wall. "_You brought him here didn't you, bitch? Stooping so low to work with the people you chase - I'll kill you!_"

Not heeding any of the words thrown at her, Harry slammed the painting against the wall. The sound of shattering glass was near inaudible to the cracks of twin gunshots that followed after.

Harry looked up from her bent position on the floor, hand curled around the broken frame, one bullet hole in the wall behind her, and another in Gospella's right hand.

"_Where I come from, women are treated with respect,_" the veiled man said lightly, one hand in his pocket, his gun emitting the faintest whips of smoke. He continued, over Gospella's screams of agony, "_But I guess you wouldn't know the meaning of that._"

"_I'll kill you! I'll kill the both of you!_" the mafia boss howled, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest.

Stepping over the painting, Harry approached the two men, standing right in front of the boss. She lowered herself to meet Gospella at eye-length, the largest piece of broken glass in hand and a pleasant smile along her lips.

"I think he'll enjoy meeting you," she told the man thoughtfully, remembering the entity that began it all.

She smiled as his eyes lost their initial fear, travelling deliriously, hungrily, from her legs, to her breasts.

Abruptly, Harry kicked Gospella's legs open and, in one swift movement, viciously slashed through his most beloved member.

She released the bloodied piece of glass soon after, unmoved by the man's renewed shrieks of overwhelming pain.

Satisfied with the completion of her plan, she turned, walking past the other man, an unreadable expression on his face.

They moved in tandem; him, moving forward after a pause, to take care of Gospella's headache-inducing screams and her, stripping one dead grunt's suit clean to clothe herself.

Her magic moved to resize the outfit, the cheap fabric clinging nicely on her shoulders. Tugging her unruly hair back into a low ponytail, Harry faced the man again just as he turned, long slim fingers tight around Gospella's collar.

"I suppose you want him as well," the hitman said resignedly, his English smooth and slightly accented. He gestured to the unconscious man with a casual kick.

"No," she said, but it came out more as a question. Her eyebrows rose as they both exited the moldy bedroom. The hallway was eerily quiet, only accompanied by the quiet sobs of several women.

Turning to the man, she added, "You may have interrupted me, but that's not a bad thing."

The hitman glanced down at her with narrowed eyes.

"Your people don't need to see the body?" he asked her as she sent a thrum of magic through the heavy padlock of the first prison cell.

_My people? _She mouthed in confusion, her back to him while she pulled harshly against the outdated lock. It sprung open with a grating screech and she tossed it to the ground, ignoring the following brutal thud.

"I came here without any expectations," Harry said blandly, skipping over the part where she had willing tagged along, eager for her next kidnapping.

Hand on the rusting door knob, she looked back at the hitman, his hat covering the upper half of his face.

"I've learned it's best to leave it to your people," she said slowly, having no clue what the fuck she was saying, but figuring it would be poetic to use the man's words back at him. "Your world, your laws."

Harry blinked in amazement at herself because _wow_, did that sound cool or what?

Shaking away her thoughts, she ignored the man's relaxing posture and pulled the door open, gaining entrance to a tiny room with three young women.

One swiftly moved in front of the other two, her hallowed features failing to hide the fierceness in her eyes.

"_Peace_," Harry raised her hands, switching easily to Italian and softening her voice. "_We're not here to harm you._"

_At least, I'm not, _she then thought belatedly. It was difficult to say what exactly the mafia would do with these women now, but the man behind her certainly didn't have any malicious intentions.

"_The men here have been taken care of,_" she gestured to the hitman behind her and, right on cue, he raised Gospella's body into the air in demonstration. The woman at the front stared disbelievingly.

"_I'm going to unlock all of the prison cells,_" Harry continued, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. Looking straight into the woman's startled, dim eyes, she ordered, "_And _you_, miss, will open them._"

"_M-Me?_" the woman croaked out, licking her dry lips. "_But - _"

"_They'll panic if we approach them, just like you had. I mean, look at us! _" Harry joked, though by 'us' she actually meant 'him,' because tall, dark and intimidating didn't do much to soothe anybody's fears. "_There's not much time left before our ruckus attracts the wrong people, so I'd like to see you all free before then._"

"_I - "_

And before the woman could say much else, Harry turned and exited the prison cell, quickly pulling on every padlock with a sharp tug.

The hitman followed her sedately, easily keeping up with her steps.

"I didn't know you spoke Italian," he commented casually, dragging Gospella's body through the dirt floor.

Harry shrugged, reaching the end of the hallway in record of time. She watched patiently as the first woman slowly stepped out of her prison cell, hunched over and hesitance in her posture, wonder flooding her features at the dead men along the ground.

"You didn't ask," she pointed out, before a sudden idea crossed her mind. Crouching next to the nearest lifeless grunt, Harry rummaged around the corpse until her fingers reached a cold, metal object.

She returned to the hitman, the gun hidden away, as gradually, more and more women began to fill the hallway, huddling together under the directions of the first woman.

Said woman approached them minutes later, guarded in her movements.

"_Give yourselves ten minutes,_" Harry counted the number of women crowding the small space. "_Do any of them need immediate medical attention?_"

The woman startled, while the hitman next to her shifted minutely.

"_I - no, not anything that needs more than time to heal,_" the woman answered. "_How -_ "

"_Good,_" Harry interrupted, a touch apologetic. The longer she stayed, the worse it would be for both her and her new acquaintance.

(Though why he still remained, the reasons were a mystery to her).

"_You have less than ten minutes to decide_," she continued, already opening the door behind her to reveal the dark, musty halls of the catacombs. "_In that time, the police will arrive. If you don't want their attention, leave._"

"_But - "_

It was too late, unfortunately. Harry, sick and tired of this fiasco, had already left, briskly walking to the stairs at the end of the hall.

"I thought you'd leave it to my people?" the hitman asked nonchalantly, _still _here for some odd reason.

"Yes, and you have him in your hands," Harry answered, barely able to stop her eyes from rolling. They walked up the dusty, crumbling stone stairs in tandem. "Don't tell me you need those women?"

There was a slight pause.

"No, you are correct about that," the man admitted. They exited through what seemed like cellar doors, arriving right below a charming, ancient bell tower.

"Great!" Harry said, a bit too cheerfully, which was probably due to her very severe need to eat bread _soon_. Her eyes travelled up the tower, taking in the tourists chattering around her, to the top.

The bell was missing. The bell of a bell tower was missing, but no matter, because above the place where the bell should have been, was a ceiling full of beautiful, glass-stained paintings.

"Are you planning on contacting your people then?" it was clear, at this point, that the Hitman-Who-Would-Not-Leave was fishing for something that probably wasn't even there. "I am assuming that would be the fastest way to contact the local police."

Harry looked at the man, who was somehow not attracting any sort of attention, despite the half-dead mafia boss in his hands.

_There's been some sort of miscommunication here, _she thought, _but I'm too hungry to try and figure it out. _

So, instead of clearing out any misunderstandings like a mature adult, Harry decided it was high time to get the hell out of there.

In a single motion, a tad too quickly for the hitman to follow, she pulled out her borrowed gun (miraculously, still loaded with bullets and safety trigger turned off), and shot blindly above her.

The glass ceiling shattered into millions of pieces.

(It was important to note that Harry, in her centuries of living, had only held a gun three times in her life and twice, they had been made of plastic.

She had actually been aiming for the fire alarm that rested at a slightly lower level, but in this situation, she supposed glass could work too).

"_Are you crazy?_" the hitman hissed, slipping back to Italian. All around them, tourists burst into a fervor of activity, screams filling the air.

Harry rolled her shoulders, vanishing the gun to another plane of existence.

"How far away is the closest police station in the back streets of tourist Rome?" she asked, already walking away from the bell tower. Her cheap, borrowed shoes crushed the specks of glass underneath.

"That's right! A ten minute drive," she said, answering her own question. Wiggling her fingers in farewell, Harry slipped into the crowd - with the sudden chaos, everyone was entirely focused on securing their own safety.

And when the hitman blinked, she was long gone, apparating to Venice in hopes that maybe this time, she would finally get her bread.

**.**

**.**

**.**

A few weeks later found her in a little cafe, hidden within the less populated streets of Athens.

"Ah, Greece," Harry hummed, swallowing another bite of revani. The cake was incredibly light, with a slight citrus tang, and fantastically delicious.

She was the only one sitting at the veranda outside, the cafe's elderly owner cheerfully sweeping the floors inside.

It was all terribly nice, Harry considered. So nice, in fact, that it was very likely she would cut her vacation short and move on to her next one.

_Always looking for the next adventure, _she thought enthusiastically, though her former Headmaster probably didn't mean it in that way. Still, it was exciting to imagine what world she would stumble upon next - perhaps an alien planet? Oh, it had been so long since she last landed on one -

In her next breath, a man suddenly appeared in the seat across from her.

"I must admit," he began. "I didn't expect to find you here."

Harry took a long sip of her iced tea.

"And how exactly did you find me?" she frowned at the hitman (the same one from that terrible time in Rome, weeks ago), dressed impeccably as always, with a well-ironed suit and a clean, white button-up shirt.

The man cocked his head to the side, his ridiculous hat somehow still covering part of his face.

"A little bug told me," he answered, tipping his fedora off to her. The action revealed a mess of dark hair, hidden once again, only leaving distinctive curls on the side.

Harry gave him a sympathetic glance. She knew all too well the troubles of unruly hair.

"Well, you've found me," she waved her hands in congradulations. "How's Gospella?"

"Dead," the hitman said shortly. Harry smiled at that. She had known already, of course. Death had made sure to visit afterwards, to inform her of where exactly the dead man would be for the rest of eternity.

"That's nice," she said, finishing off her revani.

The man leaned back against the plastic chair. Hands laid casually in his pockets, he said, "Considering M16 has erased all records of you, I'm assuming you're here for Moraitis?"

Harry blinked at the sheer number of oddities in that one sentence.

_M16? Erased records? As in, erased records that had previously existed? _

_Clearly, several mistakes have been made here, _Harry thought.

"I'm not involved with M16," she told him, conveying what probably should have been said weeks ago.

"Of course you aren't," the hitman said, as if he was simply humouring her. "But your disguise could use some work, if I must say."

Harry laid an affronted hand on her searing yellow, pineapple print t-shirt. "Back off the attire, scrub. This is _vintage_."

"And please," she added, twirling a strand of her black hair. "You're one to talk. Walking around the streets of Athens in a three-piece suit and an ugly tie. _That's _what you would call a garish yellow."

Almost unwittingly, the hitman raised a hand to his sickening tie. He caught himself just in time, however, and the briefest of scowls flashed by.

"Moving on, it would be for the best if you delayed your plans for another twelve hours," he said, recovering admirably. "I have plans with Moraitis tonight."

Was it a warning? Or a request? Either way, Harry really didn't give a fuck.

"I have no plans tonight," she said slowly, hopefully at rate that could be understood. It had been two centuries since she had tried organizing her daily life in a concrete manner. Today would not be a day for change. "In fact, it's the exact opposite. I'm going to wander around the streets and maybe get piss-poor drunk."

It was a joke, of course. Harry was as incapable of getting drunk as she was dying, so it was all moot point.

The hitman made a noise that sounded incredibly patronizing, and it was only her bemusement that prevented Harry from smiting him right then and there.

(Although it had been so long since her last smiting... perhaps five years? Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all - )

"Do try to wander carefully then," the man said, and Harry was mildly impressed that someone who hadn't even reached his thirties could sound so condescending. "I'd hate to see us on opposite sides tonight."

He left with a dip of his hat, before slinking into the dark alleyways and disappearing completely from sight.

Harry stared into the distance, down the cobblestone roads and up to the darkening sky.

"Opposite sides, huh?" she drained the rest of her tea. With a satisfied sigh, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slapped an inordinate amount of cash onto the wooden table.

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, Harry hopped back onto the main street, blending with the growing lights that filled the city.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Munching on koulouri, Harry traversed the brightly lit streets of downtown Athens. The toasted bread crunched nicely between her teeth, countless sesame seeds spilling onto the ground below.

The brick roads felt rough underneath her flats, a sea of tourists swarming around her, the lamp posts rusted and sturdy.

_Indeed, it's very nice, _Harry decided, her toes curling within her stockings. She had forgone her vintage outfit for a more casual dress, all for the sake of blending in.

She twirled once, startling the people around her, relishing the swish of fabric along her knees.

_I'll leave next week, _she concluded. This planet was a bit too calm for someone like her.

Humming to herself, she stepped forward again - only for a pair of bodies to block her way.

"_Good evening, miss_," the man to the right said in Greek. "_I couldn't help but notice you were by yourself here in Athens._"

"_Well, you're not wrong,_" Harry answered in turn, more amused than anything else. "_Can I help you gentlemen?_"

The man shared a look with his partner, their burly shoulders relaxing slightly.

"_We're looking to promote our club, just around the corner,_" he said smoothly, gesturing to the intersection behind him. "_And well, when I saw a beautiful woman such as yourself, without a place for entertainment, I felt compelled._"

"_A nightclub, huh?_" Logically speaking, Harry was a bit too old for those kinds of activities, but it never hurt to try and feel young again, right?

Skimming their minds more out of habit than caution, it became apparent that the advertised nightclub hosted activities that went beyond the expected.

"_Sure, why not?_" Harry said easily. There was hardly a club these days that didn't dabble on the opposite side of legality.

The man beamed, his features transforming to something slightly more sinister.

"_Wonderful!_" he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Harry looked at the limb and briefly considered cutting it off, before ultimately deciding against it.

Both he and his partner guided her down the streets, their stained suits causing the locals to give them a wide berth.

They turned swiftly left, turning a corner and into an alley with stuttering lights. Neon signs bombarded her eyes, with figures standing in front of different doors, burnt cigars between their fingers.

"_It may seem a bit dangerous, but there's nothing to fear here,_" the man commented, nearly dragging her forward at this point. Briefly, Harry wondered if this sort of tactic usually worked for him - he was a terrible actor.

"_Annnnd here we are!_" he announced, gesturing to metal door squeezed between two larger buildings.

_Athena's Wine Goblets _\- was written in fading black ink along the tinted windows. It was an unimaginative name.

"_Come along, miss,_" the man pulled at her, as his partner opened the door with a creak. The muffled sounds of an electric bass rose to a deafening height.

She was led down carpeted stairs, to a basement full of young adults, dancing erratically to mind-numbing music.

It was a little tacky, but the drinks at the bar looked promising, so Harry gave herself a pat on the back for following directions -

She was hauled past the crowd and pushed down another set of stairs.

"_Wasn't that the nightclub right there?_" Harry glanced behind her, to the fading music and flashing lights.

"_Oh, but you need to meet our boss first, miss,_" the man said slyly, and Harry wondered who exactly he was trying to fool. "_After all, we're giving you V.I.P. access._"

"_Wow, I'm flattered,_" Harry said, as her wrists were none too gently squeezed. The whole thing no longer seemed worth the effort, and just as she contemplated leaving, the doors to her left slid open.

Inside revealed a slim, lanky man with an impressive mustache, a set of bodyguards standing resolutely at every corner of the room. The walls were painted an opulent gold and the ceiling towered high, full of mirrors.

The man - who was clearly the boss - crossed his legs, sitting on a lavishly adorned velvet couch, and across from him, past the glass table, sat -

"Ah," Harry said, staring into the dark eyes of her favorite hitman who, at the moment, looked ready to commit murder.

And as she was shoved into the room, the doors closing shut behind her, Harry decided firmly she would leave this world tonight. Clearly, fate was working against her here, which meant she had to get out quick and _fast_.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"_Ah, you must be my partner for tonight,_" the boss greeted, grabbing a hold of her arm and bringing her onto his lap. Harry, still disappointed at the threads of destiny, let him.

"_A little dull, it seems, but oh!_" course fingers roughly brought her face to a greedy, dark smile. "_Would you look at those eyes! Those fools did something right for once._"

"_Oh no,_" Harry said. This wasn't what she imagined her night to go, but, well. She widened her eyes for effect. "_I thought I was here for the nightclub?_"

The boss let out a bark of laughter. "_Is that what those idiots told you? Well, little miss, that dingy place can't serve you as well as I can_."

He trailed a finger along the side of her thigh, humming in approval at her thin stockings.

"_I always did love women with class_," the boss murmured into her riot of dark hair. He smelled of ash and cheap cologne - Harry wrinkled her nose and tried her best not to cough.

"_If that's all well and done, Moraitis,_" the hitman on the other side of the room interrupted. His eyes bored accusingly at her.

_Well, what can you do,_ Harry shrugged slightly. She hadn't walked around _looking _for this place.

"_Patience, patience, my good man,_" Moraitis chuckled. He rested a hand along Harry's hip and turned to her. "_You must forgive Reborn - he can be awfully restless at times._"

The now named hitman, Reborn, leaned on his upraised fist, against the couch's armrest, the sleeves of his suit rolled up to the elbows.

"_It wouldn't do to leave Timoteo waiting,_" Reborn answered, his entire posture relaxed. "_You know how he can be._"

"_Ah, yes,_" Moraitis agreed. "_I'd hate to anger the infamous Vongola._"

Nearly asleep at this point, Harry stared down at the hand travelling up to her chest.

_Come any closer, and I'll burn it off, _she thought lazily, fingers already twitching in preparation.

Luckily for Moraitis, fate had other plans.

"_Unfortunately, I'll have to decline the request,_" the boss waved a hand and every single man in the room raised a gun towards the center. "_You know how it is, Reborn. It's just business._"

Reborn sighed, cheek still resting on the knuckles of his hand.

"_I hate returning empty-handed,_" he muttered, as Moraitis pulled out a gun of his own. Without another word, Moraitis fired directly at Reborn, only for the shot to ricochet into the ceiling above.

Eyes turned back to Moraitis, the man's arm raised unnaturally high, a pale hand resting under his elbow.

"_What - "_ Moraitis hissed, spitting out that single word before Harry slammed a knee right into his face.

Catching the gun that slipped from Moraitis' fingers, Harry ducked under the set of arms hurled at her, and swung a foot in an arch. One bodyguard's face snapped to the side, and jumping over another guard's shoulders, Harry sent a surge of magic through the locked doors with a single touch.

The metal doors crumpled in an instant. Not one to waste a single moment of opportunity, Reborn had long since pulled out his own gun, sending every single member in the room down with startling efficiency.

Harry stepped out into the hallway, a cascade of shouts rumbling through the walls. Dusting imaginary lint off his tailored coat, Reborn joined her not long after, pointing his gun right at her and firing off.

The bullet missed by a mere centimeter. She turned, the bodyguard behind her falling to the ground not soon after.

Harry smiled. The night finally seemed to turn for the better.

"So, what's your deal?" she asked, even as she and Reborn switched places, his gun shooting at the men rushing down the stairs. She, in the meantime, slid under another guard's legs before leaping up and snapping his neck in half.

Reborn shrugged. "He was encroaching on territory that wasn't his. I was sent to ask him to back off."

"Oh!" Harry downed several more men, humming a familiar melody. "I didn't know you had an employer."

Somehow, she ended up right behind Reborn, their backs to each other. He glanced back at her, narrowed eyes and all, still firing off bullets with unnerving accuracy.

"I wouldn't call this a job," Reborn said. Back in the room next to them, Moraitis stirred, one hand to his bloodied face. "This is more like a favor for an old friend."

"Some favor," Harry noted, relaxing slightly when there was a lull in activity. "His taste in women is questionable, though."

Reborn sent her a look while reloading his gun. "It's certainly better than his taste in children."

Harry tilted her head to the side.

"Children, huh?" she tapped a finger on her chin, watching as Moraitis slowly rose with a groan. Hand grasping cold metal, Harry fired a shot at the man without another thought.

Moraitis went down immediately, blood gurgling in his lungs, a bullet in his heart.

"Not bad," Reborn commented.

Harry stared back down at her gun in disappointment. She had been aiming for his dirty, searching hands.

Still, it felt like a productive night. A nice way to end the day, and consequently, her last time here in this world.

That was the last thing she thought, before a barrage of bullets came her way.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Well," Harry said cheerfully. "That could have gone worse, right?"

Half-conscious and only held upright through Harry's arms, Reborn groaned.

She carried him back to her hotel room (apparating might leave messy results), practically dragging him across the floor, careful not to get his blood on her clothes.

"How," Reborn gritted out, his breath escaping in short, heavy puffs. She tossed him a pair of heavy duty tweezers, and he caught them quite easily - impressive for someone riddled with bullets.

Harry hummed, pretending to rummage through the cabinet in her bathroom when in reality, she was just conjuring medical supplies.

By the time she had returned, Reborn was pulling out the last bullet from his body, the tiny metal capsules resting on the dresser next to her bed.

He sat a little more upright, bleeding all over her blankets and pillows, and barely able to stop her nose from wrinkling, Harry handed over the rest of her equipment.

"I don't need these," Reborn said, but accepted the supplies nevertheless. His stitching technique was methodical and swift, leaving Harry to dump his torn outer coat in the trash.

There was a flash of _something_, bright and warm. It grabbed her attention, near magnetically, and when she faced Reborn again, there was a tiny spark of fire dancing along his fingers.

_Now _this, _is what we call interesting,_ Harry felt her lips pull into a smile. It couldn't be called magic, no. Magic didn't exist in this world - she had checked. She always did.

The fire reached towards Reborn's wounds, his skin stretching and _healing,_ and when her gaze finally traveled up to his eyes, they were still as sharp as ever.

"What, did they not cover Flames in your training?" he rasped out, the fire finally dying after another moment.

"No, I don't think they did," Harry said, finding it completely hopeless to try and convince Reborn of her lack of employment.

Reborn laughed, the sound cut short, as he carefully wrapped a roll of bandages around his less severe wounds.

"I guess they were too busy with everything else," his eyes trailed over her undamaged form. Cutting off the last of his bandages, he gingerly rose to a stand, putting back on his not-so-white button up shirt.

He walked back to her, meeting her in front of the doors to her room's balcony, hanging on the twentieth floor. The clear windows let in the moon's eerie light, illuminating half of their faces, covering the rest in shadows.

"I suppose some gratitude is in order," Reborn finally said, hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

Mind still considering that strange fire, Harry smiled. "A thank you would work."

Reborn's eyes narrowed. Taking a step forward, he leaned in, the fabric of his cotton shirt shifting to reveal the bandaged skin underneath.

"I can think of other ways besides a simple thank you," he said lowly, lips tugging to one side, close enough that the warmth of his skin was blatantly apparent.

A hand reached out to wrap around her waist, to pull her in, long, pale fingers toying with the ends of her dress. Reborn exhaled, his breath tickling her ear -

Warm, chapped lips pressed against her throat, the fingers climbing higher and higher -

And Harry, with long suffering patience, stared flatly up at the ceiling.

She dragged a hand along the waistline of Reborn's pants, trailing across skin until she found one area where a bullet had been, and _pinched. _

Reborn hissed, doubling over in pain. Pushing him to side, Harry exited the room and into the balcony.

"Honestly," she called out to Reborn, who was struggling to rise back to a stand. "I think I'd rather have that thank you instead."

Because it seemed Reborn would only continue to remain insufferable, Harry climbed onto the railing. The city below was glowing, with brilliant lights, moving out to the sea ahead, the water reflecting the stars above.

"Wait - " Reborn said, stumbling forward.

But no, Harry would not wait. As much as she wanted to move on to the next world, she figured it wouldn't hurt to try and figure out the mysterious flames here.

So Harry jumped. The wind rushing past her, falling down faster and faster, the feeling near exhilarating, and Harry laughed, without reserve and freely, before disappearing into thin air.

Leaving Reborn, alone in a single hotel room, to the scent of drying blood and the sound of wind running against the waves.

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

**this was going to be a one-shot, but then things unraveled so fast, it might end up being a two shot instead?**

**regardless, I really wanted to poke at the "adult Reborn"/fem!Harry trope, though I don't think it was done that successfully. Still! I had a lot of fun writing this. I wanted to try my hand at something with "romance," although the romance is... basically nonexistent at the moment LOL. Right now, we have two people with their own interests and motivations, and whether something will blossom out of it is unknown at the moment.**

**It was really fun trying to write the beginnings of attraction without blatantly spelling it out, though whether attraction was even there (one way or both ways or not at all) is up for debate. **

**This style of mod!fem!Harry was interesting to try out - she's kinda crazy, but still with a good heart, and the exact opposite of the mod!fem!Harry I wrote for my other oneshot. She was inspired by several other mod!fem!Harrys out there, like the one in "Cirrus Cloud" by silenceia, and the countless ones fem!Harry ones written by The Carnivorous Muffin. Go check them out, if you haven't already! They're absolutely brilliant. **

**I hope you all enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought if it, how the relationship between Reborn/Harry felt, and how Harry's personality felt over all!**

**(also, this is unironically being posted on Valentine's Day. How did this even happen LOL)**

**\- SE**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**warnings: scenes and mentions of violence/organized crime activity**

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**.**

**.**

**a big thank you and warm welcome to drippingmoonwax for being my beta! thank you for dealing with my rambles :)**

**.**

**.**

**.**

It wasn't the best place to start off her search, but in terms of familiarity, nothing really beat England in her books.

"More tea, miss?" a young waitress asked, raising a pot in her hands.

"Yes, please, that would be wonderful," Harry beamed, waiting until her cup was completely filled before she dumped a pile of sugar cubes in as well.

She settled into her padded seat, toying with a fork between her fingers. There was a soft patter of rain against the windows next to her, spilling from the dark clouds above.

"Ah, London," Harry took a bite of treacle tart, before sighing deeply into her hand. "Dreary as always."

It was an oddly tranquil moment. The muddled chatter within the cafe faded into the background and tiny streams of water trickled down the cobblestone streets outside.

_Yes, there's no place like home, _Harry thought generously, quietly sipping her tea.

Now, where to next? The idea of _something _supernatural existing in this world was too tantalizing to ignore.

Italy, perhaps? It was a terrible idea, considering how it seemed the center of all things horrid, but Harry didn't have many options in the first place.

Before the subject could be examined further, she was interrupted by a figure that stomped to her table.

"_You,_" the figure, now identified as perhaps a woman, said accusingly in Italian. Bright red eyes flashed manically - it was a strangely familiar sight. "_Are you _trying _to make things difficult for me?_"

Harry blinked slowly.

"Oh no," she then said, in English. Silently, she wondered how even away from the country, Italy had a way of worming into her life. "So sorry. I don't speak that language."

The woman reared her head back and slammed a hand onto the table with a dull smack. Several eyes turned their way.

"You are a terrible liar," she declared stoutly, glancing around her before grudgingly taking the seat across from Harry. Her accent was rather thick, jumping over every vowel. "Your country may try to protect you, but I can find anything."

Harry blinked again.

"My country," she repeated slowly. "Protecting _me?_"

That, Harry decidedly thought, wasn't quite right_._ After all, Harry had only lived on this planet for a total of six weeks - definitely not enough time to get a visa, let alone a citizenship.

The woman hissed something inaudible that sounded impressively derogatory.

"Look, you, you _airheaded bimbo,_" the woman finally said, giving up on English to return to her Italian roots. "_I searched nearly all of Europe searching for you, just to say thank you - and now we're going to pretend like nothing happened?_"

"Thank me," Harry repeated again, dumbly, giving a poor impression of a simple, English-speaking citizen.

A moment later, like tiny locks clicking in place, a single memory wormed its way into her mind.

"Oh!" she said, smiling. "I remember now. We met in that prison."

The one prison with the lackluster sanitary codes and that terrible, terrible hitman. No wonder those eyes had seemed so familiar - they had a sort of fierceness that was difficult to misplace.

"_I didn't recognize you there,_" Harry said, switching easily to Italian. "_You got a haircut, didn't you?_ _It looks good._"

Perhaps it was the sudden change in language, or Harry's own terrible skill at staying on task, but the woman (from that awful time in Rome) raised a hand to her silvery white hair.

As if realizing what she had just done, the woman scowled, her gaunt features pulling together to appear even sharper.

"_Don't try to change the subject,_" she seethed, the strands of her hair brushing along her jawline. "_I knew you were pretending - you're awful at it._"

Harry gave an unhelpful smile. "_Why, I'm not too sure what you mean._"

And then, with an equally unhelpful nod, she stood, placing a thick wad of cash to pay for the bill before walking away.

"_Wait! Where are you going?_" the woman hissed, hurriedly rising to her feet to follow in Harry's footsteps. "_I wasn't done with you!_"

Exiting the cafe, Harry stepped out into the solemn streets of London, pulling out an umbrella from thin air to avoid the pouring rain. She reached out a hand anyways, relishing the cold droplets hitting her skin.

"_I said wait!_" the woman stormed out of the cafe doors, snapping Harry out of her reverie.

Not a moment later, the woman abruptly stopped at Harry's side. She squinted at the clear umbrella printed with cartoon turtles and said, rather suspiciously, "_You didn't have that before._"

Suitably impressed, Harry gave her most winning smile. "_Perhaps_."

And proceeded to walk down the streets.

"_Hey!_"

The sound of feet violently splashing into water had Harry turn back once more.

"_You really should go back inside,_" she noted, watching as the woman breathed heavily, with puffs of warm air, silver hair sticking to her face from the rain. "_You might get sick._"

That sounded vaguely appropriate, right? Or had this world successfully cured the common cold? It was doubtful, but Harry still held hope she would come across a world medically advanced enough to achieve it.

"_No._" the woman spat out. "_I'm not leaving you until everything is repaid!_"

Harry hummed, staring at those fierce, manic eyes, and found the sight nostalgic.

"_Well then,_" Harry said, presenting another umbrella out of thin air, much to the woman's visible surprise. She smiled. "_Consider it repaid. You're welcome by the way._"

The woman hastily took a step back. Her vibrant red eyes trained on the umbrella - clear like Harry's, but plastered with yellow rubber ducks instead. "_How - _"

Harry's smile widened.

A long pause later, the woman swallowed dryly and reached out, fingers slowly curling around the umbrella. Her thin, pale hand grasped the handle tightly, as if afraid it would flee from her hold.

"_That's not how it works,_" the woman finally said, in a rasping voice. "_You can't wave away something like that so easily._"

"_According to you, I actually can,_" Harry answered back. "_All the other women did. Besides, I was on the job._"

And wasn't that ironic? It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when the entire world seemed to think she was under the services of some secret agency, but Harry was rapidly arriving to the point of not giving it any more fucks.

The woman remained still, clutching her gifted umbrella, her silver hair drenched and water dripping down her drawn face.

Harry looked out to the empty streets, the monochrome setting only tainted by a pair of brightly colored umbrellas.

In that sudden silence, Harry shoved a hand into the pockets of her cargo pockets. "_So, what are you actually here for?_"

The woman shifted. And, as if she had anticipated this question from the very start, she said haltingly, "_I don't have anywhere else to go._"

Harry glanced back at the woman. "_And that made you search the continent for me?_"

It was a peculiar decision. Harry only had a few possessions - the consequence of being non-permanent in every single way, she supposed. Not much to offer in terms of any sort of security.

"_Where else can I go?_" the woman bit back, soaked enough her clothes hung over every sharp ridge of her body. "_Follow the police? Join another gang? I was stuck there for _years. _I have no family, no money, no _future - "

She stopped, breaking off her sentence before the cracks in her voice could betray her further. With a deep inhale, she finished bitterly, "_There's nothing left for me now. If I'm going to live for something, I want it to have meaning._"

Harry turned and looked at the woman fully for the very first time.

"_Do you even realize what you're asking for?_" she asked, curiously. "_You're alive and well. Isn't that enough?_"

(It would have been enough for Harry, centuries ago.

The idea of still living, of still having the breath in her lungs matter - it was an idyllic, nostalgic memory).

"_I need more than that,_" the woman hissed back. Her short fingernails dug into her skin as she snarled, "_You can pretend all you want. I know you care. And I know you won't leave me behind_. _Isn't that what people like you do?_"

Harry allowed her lips to tilt upwards. Contrary to what many people seemed to think, Harry had, indeed, left dozens of people behind for less.

"_I don't think you're in the right place,_" Harry said, perhaps a little too amused over how a plea for help sounded more like a threat. "_What do you think I could possibly give you?_"

The woman lifted her chin. "_Something to do, I guess. You saved my life, so now I'm your __responsibility."_

Now _that _didn't sound quite right.

"_Shouldn't that be the other way around?_" Harry asked.

The woman kept silent, defiance in her eyes.

A smile found its way across Harry's face.

"_Well_," she said, perhaps showing a few too many teeth. "_Who am I to stop the ambitious?_"

Turning around, Harry began to walk down the dreary street, sharp raindrops hitting against her umbrella.

A moment later, she glanced back, the same smile on her face. "_So? Aren't you coming?_"

The woman blinked, frozen in place.

Then, in a moment that extended far too long, she stepped forward, at a stuttering pace, before hurriedly reaching Harry's side.

"_You might regret it_," Harry told her, as they walked in tandem underneath two bright umbrellas.

The woman snorted. "_I doubt it's worse than that hellhole."_

Instead of answering, Harry gazed upon the grey, cold rain, and continued on.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Once they entered the hotel she was staying at, it suddenly occurred to Harry that it had been a _very _long time since she had last taken care of another living being.

(Unless, did plants count? Did the cactus she had in the previous world _count?_).

Placing a hand under her chin, Harry peered at the woman standing at the doorway, shivering and sopping wet.

_Okay, Harry, _she thought consideringly. _You've done this before, no biggie. Food, clothes, the basics - how hard could it be?_

"The basics," Harry repeated aloud slowly. She glanced down at her empty hands before looking back up. "_So… you hungry?_"

"_I,_" the woman answered back, teeth chattering. "_Would like a shower first. And a change of clothes, if you have any_."

_Okay, _Harry thought, _so maybe you're a little rusty._

"_Shower is that way,_" she said, pointing to the door to her right. As the woman shuffled over the carpet floor, Harry tried another time, "_... does that mean you're not hungry?_"

One hand on the bathroom doorknob, the woman gave a sharp glance.

"_Something to eat is fine,_" she said stiffly, before pointedly looking down at her still wet form. "After _I change into something warmer._"

Harry shrugged. That was fair.

A few minutes later, once the sound of running water began to fill the room, Harry rolled onto the single bed, arms splayed flat on top of the covers.

She stared at the lights above, the wooden ceiling fan hanging loosely nearby.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in heavily - an action so ingrained from centuries before, it was hard to say if she could train herself out of it.

Outside, the sound of heavy rain continued on.

**.**

**.**

**.**

That night, as they shared a meal of Indian take-out, Harry tapped a fork thoughtfully to her mouth.

"_You need a name,_" she suddenly said, in realization.

The woman gave her an incredulous look. "_What? I already have a name._"

Harry took another bite of her meal. "_And how was I supposed to know that?_"

"_You could've asked,_" the woman said, rolling her eyes. "_Like any other normal person would._"

"_A normal person wouldn't stalk someone across the continent,_" Harry said pointedly, before sitting back smugly, rather satisfied at the accuracy of her remark.

The woman gave a glare and silently, viciously, ate into her food.

After a few moments of silence, she swallowed, taking a deep dreg of water.

"_Bianca,_" the woman finally said, after clearing her throat. "_Bianca Pacino._"

Harry smiled.

"_That's a good name,_" she told the woman, because names held power. "_I'll take good care of it._"

The now-named Bianca scrunched her nose.

"_And it's Harry,_" she said. "_Harry Potter._"

There was an abrupt, brief chill, forcing Bianca to shiver and bring her pajamas closer together. Harry, in turn, gave it no mind.

They finished their meal rather quickly after and, with a brief, wary look flashing across her features, Bianca folded her pale hands together.

"_Where will you be going next?_" she asked, some sort of careful light placed in her eyes.

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "_That's a good question. I'm not too sure yet._"

Bianca blinked once. "_They haven't given you your next assignment?_"

_They? _

Harry folded her arms and wondered what it would take to convince others that it had been five decades since she last took part in any sort of organization.

(And, if she had any say in it, that would remain the case for as long as Harry Potter lasted).

She leaned back onto her seat and considered her choices, until the sudden reminder of _why _she hadn't left this entire planet yet occurred to her.

"_I need to find out more about that fire,_" Harry then said aloud, twirling a fork absentmindedly between her fingers. "_What did that man call it again? Flames?_"

Bianca's red eyes widened. "_Flames?_"

"_That's a dangerous thing to look into,_" Bianca said warily. "_Even for government research._"

Harry splayed her arms in a grand gesture. "_Consider it a personal project, then._"

"_Personal project or not,_" Bianca set down her fork and narrowed her eyes. "_That's just looking for trouble."_

Clasping her hands together, Harry leaned forward and told Bianca, very seriously, "_Don't worry. I never look for trouble._"

Bianca threw her hands in the air. "_That's not the point, you idiot! You're trying to mess with things that could kill you!"_

Harry smiled.

"_This isn't some kind of joke,_" Bianca snapped, crossing her thin arms. She rubbed her arms and kept her eyes straight at the wall behind Harry. "_Are you trying to - is this some kind of thing you're trying to pull, to make me go away?_"

She raised her chin deftly. "_If it is, you'll have to try harder._"

Harry tilted her head and wondered, a little idly, if it was exhausting to live so vitally in the moment.

"_I'm not trying anything,_" she then said. It was a hilarious suggestion because Harry hadn't _tried _at much for a very long time. "_Besides - "_

Harry let out a wide grin. "_Let's say you remind me of someone. I don't do dirty to what's mine._"

Bianca paused, a flicker of something moving behind her red eyes. There was something alight in that sight - perhaps she saw past the skin Harry wore or, even better, perhaps she saw a glimpse of _him. _

"_That's… that's fine then,_" Bianca said, recovering remarkably, and Harry allowed the moment to pass on. "_... does that mean you're actually looking into it?_"

Harry shrugged, grabbing her empty take-out container and tossing it behind her. It clattered into the rubbish bin with a defeated whoosh. "_Why not? I have the time._"

Bianca didn't answer for a long time. Then, "_I hope you and your superiors know what you're doing._"

Harry let out a long laugh at that.

"_Sure, sure,_" she said, waving away the words because, ha! Superiors! No matter which planet she landed on, it didn't take long for its residents to learn that Harry Potter was notoriously horrendous with authority figures. "_So, you're still up for coming along?_"

Bianca tucked her arms closer together and glared straight into Harry's eyes. "_Didn't you hear what I just said? You'll have to try harder to get rid of me._"

Personally, Harry thought that was a terrible choice, considering her track record on taking care of living beings (she gave a moment of silence for Harold, her cactus), but at least things would be interesting for a while longer.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"_The topic of Flames is protected under something called the Omerta,_" Bianca explained, eyes wandering back and forth. "_I've only heard about it during my time - during my time there._"

"_A 'vow of silence,'_" Harry said thoughtfully. "_How quaint._"

Bianca's face shifted. "_It's very heavily guarded. Many have died for it._"

They sat on the veranda of Harry's hotel room, sharing a pot of tea. Well, Harry was drinking tea - Bianca had taken one look at the teapot before delicately refusing a cup.

Above their heads, a steady drizzle of rain continued to pour onto the clothed covers, creating a soft patter.

"_You've picked up on a lot,_" Harry noted, taking a long dreg of her tea.

Bianca exhaled heavily.

"_Omerta covers more than the supernatural,_" she continued, very pointedly not responding to Harry's words. "_All criminal organizations are held under its jurisdiction._"

Harry hummed. "_And who keeps them in line?_"

"_I'm not too sure,_" Bianca said after a pause. "_The higher ranking Families might know. What I've heard comes from childhood stories. They mention beings hidden in the shadows, who can drag you into the dark without a sound._"

"_Hidden beings in the shadows,_" Harry repeated, appearing appropriately intrigued. Would she have to deal with these creatures if she ventured further?

(Would they be any different than what she's seen over the years?)

_People will do anything for the sake of knowledge! - _was what Hermione would have said, perhaps, in their younger years. It was an inspiring thought.

Later, deep into the night, when Bianca's careful breaths slowed into a calmer rhythm, Harry walked out into the veranda once again.

She sat in one of the offered seats, resting her head on a hand, staring deeply into the two seats across the table.

From one blink to the next, following the lightest of whispers, the phantoms of two people appeared in those very same chairs.

The older woman blinked, the edges of her dark skin pale and wispy, the wrinkles around her eyes sunken.

"Goodness," the woman finally said, her unruly hair tied tightly into a bun. Her voice echoed in strange patterns. "How long has it been now, Harry?"

The phantom next to her snorted, his calloused hands folded together. "Give her a break, 'mione. You know how she feels about calling us back."

"Well, yes, of course I do," Hermione shot back, raising her chin. "I'm just trying to check up on her - something _you _could do a little better with."

"_Me?_" Ron leaned into his chair, an affronted finger pointed at himself. The lines along his face creased as he fought a grin. "I'm surprised Harry called you again, considering how much you nagged her last time - "

"_Nagged her?_ What, so caring about a friend is now considered _nagging?_"

"Yeah, if the friend is an immortal being who can't _die - _"

"That's a sensitive topic and you know it! - "

Lips curving upwards, Harry crossed her legs, settling deeper into her seat.

(As much as it tried, time could not take everything from Harry).

A few minutes later, the trio sat quietly under the light rainfall.

Hermione paused, calculating eyes taking in Harry's appearance.

"So," she said, very delicately. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, mate," Ron added right after. "You only call us when you're about to lose your mind."

"_Ronald!_"

"_What? _Am I _wrong?_"

Harry smiled, a shorter, quieter smile. "I'm not going to lose my mind just yet."

Hermione cleared her throat once. "Well. Well, that's good then."

"That's great, actually," Ron sent her a thumbs up.

Harry sent a thumbs up back, before sighing heavily, resting her arms on the thin glass table in front of her.

"I don't know," she murmured. How many years would it take before she could find the right words? "This world isn't so bad, I think. Maybe I need some inspiration."

"Inspiration?" Hermione parroted back, suspicion already painted across her features. "Inspiration, like that time you blew up a moon?"

"It was more like an asteroid," Harry tried to say, only for Ron to interrupt, eyes squinted across the dimly lit streets of the city.

"What kind of world is it this time?" he asked. The muted wisps of his appearance did nothing to hide his glee. "An alien civilization? Mythical jungles?"

"London, actually," Harry said, before amending quickly. "Or _a _London."

"Ah," Ron said, settling back into his seat and nodding sagely. "Equally as dangerous, I see."

"Oh, please," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She turned to fully face Harry. "Is this what's been bothering you?"

"It's been on my mind," Harry shrugged. "I'm trying to avoid the same old, same old, y'know?"

"The same old is never the same for you, Harry," Hermione smiled wryly. "And I think trying out new things is a wonderful idea!"

Ron coughed loudly. "I don't think you both are on the same page right now."

Sending a glare that could be felt across the metaphysical world, Hermione said, "Either way, I can only imagine how the passage of time must feel for you."

She gave a broad smile. "And despite my own misgivings, I want you to be _happy, _Harry."

"Here, here," Ron said, raising an invisible cup. His eyes, once a bright blue, were equally as bright as phantom wisps. "Why don't you take your time here? If you haven't left yet, then there's still something worth looking into, right?"

Harry sat in thought, while Hermione sent an approving glance to Ron, before saying, "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right," Ron said, puffing out his chest.

Her shoulders relaxed slowly - a reminder that she couldn't rely on them for too long - and Harry smiled. "Thanks, guys."

"I did pick someone up," she then noted, gesturing to the room behind her. "I think I'm in charge of her now."

"Her? Like a person?" Hermione asked, only the slightest hint of alarm coloring her voice. "Or like a… a pet?"

"Rest in peace, Harold," Ron said under his breath.

"A person," Harry answered, somewhat affronted at the lack of _faith. _"I've been doing great so far!"

"Of course you have," Hermione said soothingly. "It's just… maybe you should think it over?"

Harry threw her hands up in the air. "Do what makes you happy, Harry, think it over, Harry - _which is it?_"

**.**

**.**

**.**

She began the morning on a lighter step, clearing out the curtains to let the sunlight in.

"_Rise and shine!" _Harry called, completely ignoring Bianca's groans. "_We have a long day ahead of us!_"

Bianca peeked out of the covers, her red eyes narrowed considerably. "_We do?_"

"_Well, no,_" Harry said, after a moment of thought. "_Or at least, not yet._"

She gave a half-hearted shrug before gesturing to the breakfast spread behind her. "_You hungry?_"

Bianca stared at the presented food and collapsed back onto the bed, grumbling, "_Why is it always food with you?_"

Instead of answering, Harry ate a muffin, because, well, what was she supposed to say?

They dined quietly under the rising sun, Bianca taking slow, tiny bites into her eggs and ham.

"_Your best bet might be asking around the local bars in Italy,_" Bianca finally said, swallowing deftly. "_A lot of them are affiliated with nearby Families._"

Harry bit into a biscuit and tried not to make a face. Ugh, Italy again?

Taking a long, draining chug of juice, she asked, "_Does that mean you're still coming with me, potential dangers and all?_"

Bianca scowled. "_I already told you I - _"

There was a moment of silence.

"_I already said I would,_" Bianca said, falling into her seat with a defeated sigh. She muttered quietly, "_I don't have anywhere to go either way._"

"_Fantastic,_" Harry said, dutifully moving on and summoning a brochure for a local train ride to their new destination. "_What do you think about this one? They even serve breakfast in bed!_"

Harry cooed at the poorly drawn advertisement. Normally, she'd apparate without a fuss, but Ron _had _said to take her time.

Bianca stared blankly at the brochure. "_I… can't afford these prices._"

Harry lowered the papers in her hands and gave a _look_.

"_I've been feeding you for the past two days,_" she said slowly, because it was becoming apparent that the Italians here were a little too slow on the uptake. "_I think a train ticket is well within my budget._"

Harry then snorted at her own words. Budget! Ha!

"_Besides,_" she folded the paper gently in half and stared straight into wide, red eyes, a wide smile on her lips. "_I said I'd take care of you, didn't I?_"

**.**

**.**

**.**

Two hours into the train ride, Harry stared into the dark ceiling, more than ready to move on to the next novel part of the trip.

"_Well, what did you expect?_" Bianca asked unsympathetically, looking very comfortable in the narrow bed tucked into the side of the train. "_A theme park?_"

Harry perked up at the question. "_There are theme parks here?_"

The idea was tantalizing. Despite her centuries walking through separate worlds, Harry _still _hadn't figured out the secret to flying. Roller coasters would be her next best option.

Bianca squinted at Harry. "_Are you serious? There are theme parks _everywhere."

"_Everywhere?_" Harry repeated, challengingly. "_Even in the mafia?_"

Bianca paused, opening her mouth, closing it shut, before finally saying, in a quieter voice. "_... yes._"

Harry clasped her hands together delightedly. She knew _exactly _where she would be going next.

Groaning, Bianca pulled the covers over her face and decidedly did not say another word.

An agonizing amount of time later, Harry dragged herself off the train, hands outstretched towards the sun.

"_At last!_" she exclaimed, stretching her centuries-old muscles. It was important to stay fit in her old age. "_Sunlight!_"

Wearing a pair of sunglasses to hide her dark circles, Bianca snorted, pulling out a suitcase Harry had gifted her. She glanced down at Harry and muttered under her breath, "_I don't understand how the government could've hired someone like you._"

Considering the unfortunate series of events that led to her actual "job," Harry found it a fair question - the application process to command Death had been far from standard.

Instead of regaling the old tale, Harry shrugged instead. She faced Bianca, the resident of this charming (and hateful) country. "_So, where to next?_"

Bianca tightened the grip on her suitcase. Her head wandered around the train station and, moments later, her shoulders hunched forward.

"_Naples, I suppose,_" she then said, a sort of finality in her voice. "_It's far enough from Vongola territory._"

Harry blinked at those words. Vongola, Vongola - where had she heard that name before?

**.**

**.**

**.**

They arrived in Naples in the early evening. Following her usual routine, Harry picked a hotel by closing her eyes and pointing in a certain direction.

"_It's standard procedure,_" Harry told Bianca, when the woman made an incredulous face. "_I'm a person of simple routines._"

The remaining hours before dusk were spent in a local restaurant, under Bianca's recommendation.

"_Spaghetti e vongole,_" the waiter announced, placing down a fresh plate of creamy spaghetti, decorated with clams and parsley. "_And pasta e fagioli._"

Harry non discreetly wiped away any hint of drool.

She hummed delightedly, digging into the dishes with gusto. At a much slower pace, Bianca placed some spaghetti onto a separate plate before chewing carefully.

"_You can't visit Naples without trying the seafood,_" Bianca later explained, as they exited the restaurant. She weaved through the streets with a strange sense of familiarity, ducking past major roads and cutting into the local alleys.

"_I love seafood,_" Harry told her reassuringly, the statement a little too late considering the amount of clams she had just eaten.

After another fifteen minutes of walking, they arrived at a rather well-kept bar, a low-ceiling building with bright lights and quiet, easy music.

"_This is one of the more popular hot spots,_" Bianca said, lingering at the end of the street, eyes trained on the bar. "_You might be able to pick up some information, but people won't like that you're asking about Flames._"

Harry shoved her hands into her khaki pants, undeterred. She had long since learned that there was some truth even to fairytales.

She began walking under the street lights, before glancing back.

"_You can go back to the hotel,_" Harry said, somewhat aware that Bianca's knowledge around the city had to mean _something _significant. "_You don't have to stay._"

It would also be incredibly embarrassing if she failed to keep Bianca past the night - that would be a shorter record than even Harold, and then Harry would have to deal with a _precedent. _

Bianca raised her chin in what was becoming a familiar fashion. "_I should be fine. We're in the inner ring of the city anyways._"

For Harry, those words meant literally nothing. But she accepted them either way and strolled into the bar, Bianca a mere step behind her.

The dull chatter within the bar silenced as soon as she walked through the door. It was unclear what could have attracted the attention, but Harry chalked it up to criminal paranoia and grabbed a nearby table.

Bianca took the opposite seat and hissed, "_I knew I shouldn't have let you go out like that._"

Harry looked down at her white button-down, decorated with mini Italian flags, before rearing her head back, affronted.

"_This is a modern classic,_" Harry protested. When would the world understand her genius aesthetic?

"_It's horrendous and slightly offensive,_" Bianca shot back, dragging a hand through her cropped, white hair. "_I guess it's my fault. I should have known better._"

"_To be fair, you did tell me to change,_" Harry said soothingly, plucking the specials list. "_I just ignored you. It's my specialty._"

"_Your specialty,_" Bianca repeated flatly, fingers digging into her scalp. Her red eyes flashed across the bar.

Considering the late hour, there were only a handful of patrons in the bar, with a sole bartender wiping the counter in the center of the room.

Instead of responding, Harry made a noise of interest at the appetizer menu - the deep fried zucchini seemed to call to her.

"_You want anything?_" Harry asked, already rising from her seat.

Bianca scrunched her nose. "_You're eating _again? _And I thought you were gathering information._"

Harry took the non-answer as a no. "_Why can't I do both?_"

She walked off to the counter, placing a single rune under the wooden table, in case someone wanted to try something behind her back. Heavy stares followed her across the room.

"_Two frozen margaritas, please,_" Harry said pleasantly to the bartender. "_And a zucchine alla scapece._"

The bartender nodded slowly, eyeing her up and down. She hopped onto a stool, an easy smile on her lips.

Minutes later, two clear glasses were placed by her hands and the bartender, a middle-aged man in a freshly pressed uniform, stared at her expectantly.

Utterly unaware of what those expectations may be, Harry leaned forward and asked, charmingly, "_What can you tell me about Flames?_"

Indiscernible emotions flashed across the man's face. Luckily, Harry had something a little more useful to pick those thoughts apart.

Pieces of memories, of colored flames, of whispered rumors passed along his mind.

"_Colored flames?_" Harry murmured, playing with the rim of her drink. "_How fascinating._"

When it was clear this was the most she could find, she waved a hand over the bartender's face. In an instant, he blinked, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at the basket of fried zucchini in his hands.

_If only I was better at Legilimency,_ Harry thought mournfully, accepting the food gracefully. She grabbed the drinks and walked back, where both the table and Bianca were still intact.

"_For you,_" Harry declared, placing the margarita in front of Bianca.

Bianca rubbed her forehead, as if a headache was on its way. "_I'd say thank you, if you weren't on the job._"

"_I'm always on the job,_" Harry joked, in poor taste, because she wasn't _wrong_.

She popped in a piece of sliced, deep fried zucchini, the salty batter crunching nicely between her teeth.

At that very moment, a hand, well-kept and attached to a luxurious suit, landed gently on their table.

Harry slowly looked up, still chewing on her food.

"_What a pleasant surprise,_" a man, with strands of grey hair, grinned wickedly. His dark eyes were trained solely on Bianca. "_To think you were still alive, little lamb._"

Bianca remained still in her seat, her pupils dilating, breath cut short.

"_I did hear things went south with Gospella,_" the man continued, inspecting his manicured fingernails with great interest. Behind him, three burly men waited silently. "_And you even had the courtesy to return to me!_"

He shot forward, a hand roughly grabbing Bianca's chin. Leaning closer, he inspected her thinning cheeks and slyly, he said, "_I knew your father raised you right._"

Bianca's hands clenched at those words.

"_My father,_" she began, in a trembling whisper, "_Wouldn't even bother to spit on your grave._"

The man let out a bark of laughter.

"_Yes, I think I still have some use for you yet,_" he said, fingers still wrapped tight around Bianca's face. "_Surely you didn't think your family was free of its debt?_"

Meanwhile, Harry took another piece of her fried zucchini, already halfway through the basket. It was rude to eat when Bianca was so preoccupied, but the food was near irresistible.

She sipped her margarita - lime and frozen - as the unknown man motioned to his men, his fingernails digging into Bianca's face.

"_Take the lamb away,_" he said, hand still tight around Bianca's face as she jerked away. "_Maybe she'll survive the slaughter this time as well._"

For the first time during this altercation, while the other men shifted to move, Bianca's eyes darted to Harry, a visceral terror alight in her eyes.

And Harry, inspecting her half-empty glass, smiled with all of her teeth.

She picked up another piece of zucchini and said, "_You have five seconds._"

The man slowly turned to her, the golden watch around his wrist glinting under the fluorescent light.

He snorted. "_What did you say?_"

Harry finished off the rest of her zucchini.

"_You have five seconds,_" she then said, wiping her hands on her pants. "_Before I do something about that hand._"

Harry's eyes followed the fingers still digging into Bianca's skin, a dark red blooming along her face.

The man hacked out another laugh.

"_You?_" he asked, mockingly, before tightening his grip even further. His nails pierced skin and Bianca cried out in pain. "_What are _you _going to do? This - "_

He brought Bianca forward, dragging her out of her chair and to the ground. His other hand dug into her hair and pulled upward, bringing her face into the light, right in front of Harry.

"_This,_" he said again, delightedly, "_is _mine."

"_That can't be right,_" Harry said, taking another sip of her drink. She raised her glass to Bianca's trembling form. "_Your contract ended. That means she's my - _"

Harry paused. What was the proper term for someone who followed you across the continent?

"_My assistant,_" she finished. Once this was all over, a serious conversation was needed for the right answer. What did _Bianca _think she was?

Then, because Harry tired of all this posturing, hurled the drink in her hand straight into the man's face.

The glass shattered instantly, cutting through skin, and the man howled, the alcohol seeping into the open cuts.

Already moving, Harry upended her table and, with the man's grip loosening, summoned Bianca, the woman's body pulled to Harry's side. A heartbeat later, a gunshot fired into the table and the rune underneath it flashed dimly.

Bianca blinked rapidly, breathing harshly, tears in her eyes.

"_Stay here,_" Harry said absentmindedly. Transfiguring a nearby napkin into a blanket, she wrapped it around Bianca's shoulders. Another gunshot slammed into the table and it rattled fiercely.

Harry stood up, dusting off her khaki pants. She walked around the table, ignoring the shots fired her way, and made her way to the same man, who was dabbing a cloth to his cut face.

The man snarled, pulling out a handgun and shutting off the safety lock, "_You - _"

Rolling her eyes, Harry ducked under his raised arm and twisted her body, the back of her heel striking his face with a satisfying crunch.

More gunshots rapidly followed her way and, grabbing the downed man's gun, Harry turned, firing off at the nearest henchmen.

The bullet found its way into the electrical control board behind him instead, and immediately the lights above began to flicker dangerously. In a matter of moments, the wires above burst apart into flames.

Harry clicked her tongue.

"_This is what I get for following the rules of this trigger-happy country,_" she said, disgusted, before tossing the gun behind her.

A gurgled cough caught her attention. Looking down, Harry met eyes with the man on the floor.

"_I'm not interested in what you have to say,_" she told him rather frankly. For a brief moment, shorter than the passing of a heartbeat, she let _him _loom over her shoulders, let ancient magic cover her eyes. His face paled to sheer white. "_But you should've known better than to mess with what's mine._"

And without another word, she stomped into the man's throat, effectively ending his time in this world.

By this point, the patrons of the bar had long since fled the premises. Harry, with a great sigh, got rid of the other henchmen. The fire above was now spreading across the floor and pieces of the roof had begun to fall down.

Dusting off her hands in the empty bar, Harry walked back to her upended table and set it back to its proper place. Her fingers pinched the rune etched into wood, forcibly wiping it away.

On the floor, Bianca shuddered, manic eyes darting everywhere.

Dusting away shards of broken glass, Harry sat down. In response to the rising smoke and flames, the bar's sprinkler system finally sparked to life.

Bianca shivered, the blanket around her shoulders gradually becoming more soaked.

"_I,_" she said hoarsely, "_I don't, I don't, I -_ "

Harry shrugged. "_Take your time._"

Bianca stared numbly at the scene around her, taking in the sputtering flames, the cascade of water falling from above, the dead bodies strewn across the floor, the crushed windpipe of the man who had touched her before -

In the distance, the sound of sirens rang faintly through the air.

Bianca swallowed, before turning back to Harry.

"_Is this_," she began, licking her dry lips. "_Do you always handle your jobs like this?_"

Harry surveyed the room around her, a little puzzled by what Bianca meant by "this."

"_I do what I think is appropriate,_" Harry finally said, hopefully answering the question. She leaned onto a raised knee and let her lips curve upwards. Her eyes landed on the drying blood along Bianca's chin. "_And I do believe this was rather appropriate._"

Bianca remained silent, eyes as large as the full moon outside.

"_Now, let's get out of here,_" Harry said decidedly, rising to a stand. She offered a hand. "_Before the police blame us for this mess._"

There was a long pause.

"_They wouldn't be wrong,_" Bianca muttered, but accepted the hand and stumbled to her feet.

Harry walked to the door they had used before - despite the shattered windows that created more openings, she felt this was a more civilized method.

She opened the door, turning the knob, and nearly walked into a whole other individual, forcing Bianca to step over her heels.

And on the other side of the door, wearing another three-piece suit, hand outreached toward the door, stood the last person Harry would ever want to see on this planet.

"Ugh_,_" she said, unable to stop herself.

Face contorting in response, Reborn lowered his arm and said, in the worst imitation of a pleasant voice, "I see you haven't died just yet_._"

Physically incapable of returning the poor attempt at civility, Harry said, "Seven billion people in this world and somehow, you're everywhere I go."

Reborn had the audacity to appear slightly offended. "Many would consider that a blessing."

Harry wrinkled her nose in response.

Reborn peered over her head and stared flatly at the still burning remains of the bar. "Let me guess. This was you?"

He then gave an accusing look. "I needed this place tonight."

"Technically, until you have proof, anything could've happened_,_" Harry said, tugging Bianca forward. It was clear she had overstayed her welcome in Italy.

"Well_,_" Reborn said, glancing at Bianca before facing her again. It seemed he had many choice words to say.

Instead, he tipped off his fedora, perhaps in an attempt to seem suave, but only served to make Harry regret her decision to not smite him, weeks before. "Try not to burn Naples to the ground tonight_._"

Yes, Harry reflected, it was poor planning on her part to give mercy to those undeserving. It wasn't too late. She could still smite him now, right where he stood -

The shuffle of feet grabbed her attention. A water-soaked Bianca, white hair sticking to her still gaunt face, shifted in Harry's peripheral vision.

Harry let out a disappointed sigh. The smiting would have to wait another day.

She directed Bianca down the street and made another face. What would it take to be free of the curse of Italy?

**.**

**.**

**.**

They walked back to the hotel, because Harry wasn't sure how the residents of this world responded to apparition.

On the way, they passed by a dumpling food cart and, eagerly, Harry bought several meat buns.

"_You want one?_" Harry raised a steaming bun in question, already biting into another, a wave of heat filling her mouth.

A myriad of thoughts ran across Bianca's face before, resignedly, she accepted the meat bun.

Harry chewed through the savory pork, the juice of the meat blending with the fresh dough of the bun.

After a few minutes of silent walking, Bianca quietly asked, "_Who was that man?_"

Harry finished off her bun and vanished its wrapper. "_You don't remember? He was with me in Rome._"

Bianca took another bite of her food. "_I don't remember much of my time there._"

"_But you remembered me?_" Harry asked bemusedly. They entered the hotel's lobby through a set of sliding doors. "_Enough to search all of Europe?_"

Bianca frowned. "_I… don't know. You seemed different. Almost as if…" _

Already aware of the direction Bianca's thoughts might be taking her (and the likelihood of her being very, very wrong), Harry entered the hotel room and conjured a fresh pair of pajamas.

Accepting the clothes absentmindedly, Bianca did not say anything for several more minutes.

Finally, after another stretched moment of silence, she turned to Harry, something unsure settling onto her face. "_You - you're not actually part of the English government, are you._"

Harry smiled. "_That's correct._"

It was nice to see that some people were quicker on the uptake.

"_Then,_" Bianca began again, haltingly. "_Then who are you?_"

The better question to ask was, _what _was Harry?

"_I already told you,_" Harry said instead, patiently. "_I'm Harry Potter._"

This time, the utter chill that flashed across the air was too great to ignore.

Bianca's eyes widened and in the wake of the slowed moment, Harry waited expectantly.

Then, in the next second, the moment passed, altogether missed and forgotten.

Having experienced these eternities countless times, Harry allowed time to restart, leaving Bianca to blink rapidly.

"_I,_" she said, "_Okay. That's fine._"

"_You can leave, if you want,_" Harry said, because unlike many others, she didn't ignore the desires of what was hers. She gestured to the open door. "_I certainly won't hold it against you._"

Bianca glanced at the pajamas in her hands, made of cotton and decorated with silver birds.

"_I don't know who you are,_" Bianca admitted, fingers clenching the clothes tightly. "_But you never hesitated to help me._"

Like always, she stared straight into Harry's eyes. "_That's better than what other places can give me._"

_Humans, _Harry thought, perhaps fondly.

She let those words linger in the air - in the end, Harry Potter had nothing to say in the face of unwarranted courage.

(It was what she had once stood for, after all).

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

**notes!**

**\- as you can see, there's no way i'm going to fit everything into two chapters, which means "Don't Blink Yet" is officially going to be a multi-chaptered fic, much to my agony. **

**\- this chapter is meant to establish the pacing of the entire fic (which, hopefully, won't be more than a few more chapters) - Bianca was always meant to hold a part in this story, I just didn't expect her to be so prominent here.**

**\- Speaking of Bianca, we were first introduced to her in the previous chapter - i thought it was important to give Harry an anchor to this world, and a way to naturally search for her answers - of course, Bianca's story is not yet over. **

**\- Because of the nature of the chapter, we don't really get to see Reborn, which I'm hoping works okay for you all, since so many of you are eager to see more interactions between him and Harry. However, if I didn't put him in the back burner, it would be harder to dig deeper into Harry's character.**

**\- I'd love to hear your thoughts on Harry, on her relationship with Bianca, and where you think the direction of her relationship with Reborn is going. It's not exactly what many of you anticipated, but I hope it'll be worthwhile in the end. **

**some more thoughts:**

**\- this fic blew up more than i had expected - i spent the better part of the year trying to decide if I really wanted to continue it. I hope its continuation will be enjoyed just as much as the first chapter, so please stay tuned!**

**\- with the ongoing panic happening in the outside world, please be mindful of your interactions with others, and wash your hands! my tumblr is open for anyone to come and chat, ask for headcanons/questions, or even fic ideas, etc - a lot of you are probably spending a lot more time home, and in this case, it might be fun to interact with my readers (because i'm very, very bad at it lol).**

**Thank you to everyone who's given their thoughts and love so far! **

**\- SE**


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